A Bad Aftertaste
The road bubbles in the summer heat,
A Bad Aftertaste Flies circle in the hot afternoon sun. Ain’t nothing like that smell of sulfur of a man on the run. It’s that time of day everything is slow, and there is nothing left behind but news on the radio. They got ‘em a sketch for some billboard paste, and like the cheep whisky, it leaves a bad aftertaste. The road bubbles in the summe…
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